The current America’s Cup competitors have screwed up the event so badly that now they’re working on screwing up the next America’s Cup.
Dalton, the 56-year-old CEO of Team New Zealand, said if his team wins the Cup by defeating the U.S. team in San Francisco Bay, he will rewrite the rules for the next Cup to require all crew members to be citizens of the country of their team.
The current American crew has just two American sailors. To assemble a competitive crew of American sailors, Larry Ellison would have to clone those two guys. Which he can afford to do, but it seems kind of creepy.

The Saints’ QB picked up a take-out order at a restaurant. The tab was $74; Brees left a $3 tip. He was surprised and annoyed that a photo of the check, with tip, became an internet sensation.
Earth to rich athletes: You don’t have to go all Elvis and buy your waitress a new Cadillac, but blow the dust off that wallet, old sport, and throw down a tenner for the woman making eight bucks an hour and sharing tips with the busboys, okay? You can write it off.
By the way, seriously, Drew Brees makes $57,794.52 per day.

Drew Brees The Saints’ QB picked up a take-out order at a... Photo-5000093.67546 - StamfordAdvocate

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Sonny Dykes

Love the new Cal football coach. Zesty personality, fun offense, probably tips well.
But during the Pac 12 Conference’s recent media sessions, someone asked Dykes about his salary, $9.7 million for four years. Dykes got a little defensive and said he’d gladly trade his compensation package for that of a tenured Cal professor, because then he would “coach football 40 years (without fear of being fired), take six months vacation (every year).”
I’m guessing not many Cal profs get six months vacations. And I don’t know what they get paid, but I did some math. If you give Sonny Dykes a prof-like salary of $100,000 per year, in order to make $9.7 million, he will have to coach for 97 years.
And, Sonny, next time you’re teeing it up at the Claremont Country Club, look around and see how many Cal profs are there on their free memberships.

Living proof that Marge Schott and John Rocker once had a romantic fling.
Cooper’s alcohol-assisted slur (in vino veritas, amigo) was directed at a black security guard who wouldn’t let the narrow-minded wideout backstage at a Kenny Chesney concert.
Cooper has apologized to his teammates for his slur. Now he needs to apologize to them for being at a Kenny Chesney concert.
Just kidding, Kenny Chesney fans! But if I have to, I’ll fight every Kenny Chesney fan in the house (hic).

The Houston Rockets’ 6-10 forward left a night club in Portland and came upon two homeless men sleeping on a sidewalk.
“Wake up!” Jones shouted, stomping on the leg of one of the men.
For Jones’ sake, I hope it turns out that the guy’s leg was on fire.
Or hey, maybe Jones didn’t make actual contact, but the homeless dude flopped.
Jones’s little wake-up call was a new version of the old joke: A homeless guy asked me for a buck, said he hadn’t had a bite in days. So I bit him.

AKA A-Rod, A-Fraud, A-Roid, Nimrod.
On the verge of being tossed out of baseball for cheating, lying, and recruiting others to do the same, Rodriguez recently said, “I want to be a role model, continue to be a role model, especially to my two girls.”
And I want to continue to be Kaiser Wilhelm.

The NFL commissioner is on a roll. Recently he staunchly defended the right of the Washington D.C. football team to keep its nickname, so racially offensive it makes Riley Cooper blush.
Now Goodell is turning the Pro Bowl into some kind of low-rent reality show, with the teams picked playground-style by two captains, and the player pool selected by fans on computers in their moms’ basements.
To make the Pro Bowl even more interesting, the football will be replaced by a flaming rutabaga. Speaking of which …

The Giants’ president and CEO announced that the team will plant a garden behind the centerfield fence, growing organic fruits, vegies, herbs and edible flowers. Thus violating baseball’s oldest rule: If it’s good for you, it has no business being served anywhere near a baseball game.
Hey, Joe, it’s your turn to make a beer run. And I’m hungry. Bring me a chard-and-gardenia Cha-Cha Bowl, and a free-range-hog hot dog.